The Record Deal
by theguywhohasaname
Summary: A fic containing chipmunks, record deals, and other strange and unexplainable things.


Alright, what am I gonna call it? I havetothink up a title... No, not that... No, not that, either... Hmmm... Aw, hell, I'll call it... Wow, that's brilliant!I'd have to get everythingjust right, but... I shall call this fic... The Record Deal! I'll haveto pull it off just right, though... WAIT! No, nonononono! I will not write anything with a plot. Well, it might have a plot, but I will not know the plot until I write it. Sooooo... I shall now begin... The Record Deal... But, first, I'll test out something....  
  
Author: This first chapter of my songfic shall be writtento Cledus T. Judds 'The Record Deal.'  
Heero: That can't be good.  
Author: Whaddya mean? And what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Nashville.  
Heero: Well, I'm not.  
Duo: Do what he says, or he'll never let us out of here.  
Author: You're supposed to be in Nashville, too.  
Heero: *looks around* Where the hell are we?  
Author: You are in the one place from which there is absolutely no hope of escape. You are in my fic...  
Heero: Oh, shit...  
  
Chapter 1: Let The Festivities Begin!  
  
//In 1993 an overweight,  
non-singing,  
bleach-blond young man  
moved to Nashville in search  
of a record deal. Here is his story.//  
  
Quatre looked up at the large hotel in front of him. "This looks like the place. I'll go check in and then I'll call around and see if I can get a record deal." Quatre grabbed his luggage and walked inside. "Uhm... I guess I want a room..." He informed the clerk. "You just got here, didn't you?" The clerk asked. Quatre nodded his head. "Yes." Then a familiar voice was heard cussing behind Quatre. He turned around and saw Trowa. "I don't have enough money for a room..." Trowa said, and those words were followed by some more cussing. "Trowa! You're here!" Quatre shouted, dropping his luggage and hugging the surprised pilot of Heavyarms.  
  
//When I first stepped off  
of that greyhound bus,  
a limousine flew by,  
it was kickin' up dust,  
but heck, I didn't care,  
it was probably only Travis Tritt.//  
  
"Uh... Yeah, I'm here... I'm... Uh... I'm trying to meet some of the greatest country singers, like... Um... Bruce and Don, Judy Messina, Reda McEntar, Timmy Chesney, OopSHeDaisy, Cliff Black, John Michael Montgomery Gentry, Jim McGraw, Faith Hall, Curtis T. Judd, and all those other people..." Quatre laughed. "You got all of those names wrong. They're Brooks and Dunn, Jo Dee Messina, Reba McEntire, Timmy Chesney, SHeDaisy, Clint Black, John Michael Montgomery, Montgomery Gentry, Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, and Cledus T. Judd." Trowa nodded his head. "Yeah, them." "Trowa? You said you don't have enough money for a hotel room. If you want, you can share mine." Trowas mouth fell open, though he quickly shut it. "Um... Okay... Thanks, Quatre."   
  
//So I walked a few blocks,  
got a room at ____,  
ate me some cheese whiz  
and a pack of baloney,  
and promised me a big steak dinner  
when I had my first hit.//  
  
Later that night, in the only room the hotel had had that was unoccupied before Quatre and Trowa arrived and had only one bed, the two gundam pilots were just about ready to go to sleep. "You payed for the room, so you have the bed. I'll just sleep on the floor." Trowa said. "rowa, I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor. You get the bed." Trowa shook his head. "No, you've already payed for the room, and on top of that let me stay in it, so YOU get the bed." Quatre bit his lip. "Why don't we just share the bed?" Trowa blushed. "Ummmm... Okay, I... Guess we could do that." Then, after the two had changed into their nightclothes and stuff, they turned off the lights and climbed into bed. About a half an hour later, they were awoken by some loud groaning from the next room. "Couldn't they just be a little quieter if they're going to do that? Other people are trying to sleep..." Trowa muttered. "Hey, Quatre? I'm gonna go and see if I can get them to stop, or be quiet, or something. That is some really loud sex..." He added before exiting the room.  
  
//See, I got a cousin  
and he's got a friend  
that's got a buddy  
who put an air conditioner in  
at a record company  
rght in the heart of music row.//  
  
Trowa knocked on the door to the offending neighbors room, and a few moments later, Heero answered the door in a bathrobe. "Heero?! What are you doing here?" Heero narrowed his eyes. "I WAS..." Heero cut himself off before he could go any further. "Um... Well, I think you know. Otherwise you wouldn't have knocked on our particular door..." Trowa blushed. "Well, sorry, but you were being a little loud..." Heero shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I have good reason to. The... Individual I'm here with is very good in bed. I will try to be a little quieter since you're a fellow gundam pilot." Then Trowas eyes widened, and Heero turned around and saw Duo, also in a bathrobe, heading for the phone. "DUO!!" Heero shouted, and Duo turned in Heeros direction. "Shit! Uh... I came here to complain about how loud Heero and his GIRLfriend were being, and Heero forced me to come inside and... Um... Heero, I can't think of a decent lie right now, I'm too hungry..." Heero scratched his head. "Well, no use in trying to hide it, I guess. It's already become quite obvious..." Trowa blushed. "Uh... Well..." Heero raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" Trowa looked back towards the room he and Quatre shared and then ran inside Heero and Duos room. "Heero, can you help me with something?"  
  
//And he got to talkin'  
with security guard,  
who'd been there a few weeks,  
met a bunch of the stars,  
said there's only a handful of people  
you need to know.//  
  
Heero sighed and closed the door. "What?" "Well, you see, Quatre came here... He's trying to get a record deal... And I followed him, and... Well, long story short, I lost my money on the way, Quatre offered to share his room with me, then he made me share the bed with him, and I'm... Well, it's hard to share a bed with someone you love that you don't want to know that you love him... And... Uh... Oh, hell, I want to tell him. How do I do it? I've thought about doing it ractically all day, but every time I go to tell him, I choke." Heeo nodded his head. "I see. Well, that's tough for you, now get out so we can... Well, you know." Duo frowned at Heero. "Heero, that isn't very nice." Heero shrugged his shoulders. "If you don't help Trowa, the only thing we're going to do is sleep." Heero opened his mouth to argue, but then decided against it. "Fine."  
  
//Any one of them fellers  
can make you a millionaire.  
I figured next morning  
I'd call around  
and let 'em all know that  
I was in town,  
fresh off the stage  
from the county fair.//  
  
"I'm going to help you in the only way I can think of that will take a very small amount of time." Heero said, and then he left the room. A few moments later, he came back, dragging a half-asleep Quatre behind him. "Alright. Quatre? Trowa is madly in love with you and is too much of a wuss to tell you. Have fun, and go away. Both of you." Quatre stared ahead at Towa, realization of what Heero had just said slowly entering his mind. "Trowa?" Trowa blushed slightly. "Trowa!" Quatre shouted happily, and then hugged the other pilot. Heero mumbled something that didn't sound like something that would come from a happy person and sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. "I love you too, Trowa!" Quatre said, kissing Trowa after he had finished speaking. "Aw, wasn't that sweet, now LEAVE!" Heero yelled again. "Okey-dokey. Bye-bye, Heero. Bye-bye, Duo." Quatre waved at the two, and then a bottle of Bacardi fell from Quatres robe. "Oops..." Trowa stared at the bottle. "You drank an entire bottle of Bacardi?" Quatre gave his reply in the form of a large puddle of regurgitated alcohol on the floor.  
  
//I picked up the phone,  
started down the list,  
___ and ___ and others I just missed,  
that was Monday mornin',  
here it is, Thursday night.//  
  
"Well, it's a good thing this is a hotel. I'd hate to have to clean that up..." Heero mumbled. "Heero? You aren't actually going to leave that there, are you?" Heero sighed. "I guess not. You clean it up." "You." Heero shook his head. Then Duo did a fairly good imitation of Heero's patented glare, and Heero ran off to get a mop. Heero returned a moment later empty-handed. "Can't we just get someone from the hotel to clean it up?" Duo nodded his head. "Yeah, but it would take longer..." Heero blushed and ran to get the mop once again. "Uh, I think we're just going to leave now..." Trowa informed Duo, and then he guided Quatre out the door. "Bye." Duo waved, and then Heero arrived and quickly began to clean up the mess.  
  
//I sat by the phone,  
waitin' for their call  
watchin' old reruns  
of a Jerry Springer brawl,  
this old hillbilly's finally startin'  
to see the light.//  
  
The next morning, Quatre left the hotel room early to go find a record company willing to at least hear a song or two. He silently slipped out the door while Trowa slept, but little did he know, there was a chihuahua behind him, watching the door to their room... The second Quatre had left the hotel, the chihuahua ran into the room Quatre and Trowa shared and began barking. "Huh? Wha? How'd you get in here, doggy?" Then the dog looked right into Trowas eyes and said "I pushed open the door. Duh." Trowas eyes widened, and then he quickly pulled the sheets over his head. "It's all a dream..." He told himself. "It is not a dream. I came here to warn you. If he goes into Sony Porcupine Records, some strange things will happen." The dog said. Trowa pulled the covers off of his head and looked at the dog. "You are a dog, and you are talking. And you are saying strange things are GOING to happen? This is as strange as things can get!" The dog shook it's head. "Nope. You obviously don't know the author of this fic." "What's that supposed to mean?" The dog grinned and then began to fade into the air. "Twiiiiiinkyyyyy. Twiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnkkkyyyyyyy. The answers you seek lie within the twinky....." The dog disappeared, and Trowa jumped out of bed and ran for the nearest alcoholic beverage.  
  
//I'm never gonna get a record deal,  
I've got Janet Reno sex appeal,  
and my booty just won't shake like Billy Ray Cyrus.  
(Achey Breaky)  
But maybe I'll have my day in the sun  
if the record execs go deaf and dumb  
and all of them stars come down with laringitus.//  
  
Quatre looked up at the name of the record company he had approached. "Sony Porcupine Records, huh? Well, maybe I'll have some luck here." Quatre entered the door of the record company, and ran around screaming until someone finally agreed to listen to some of his songs. "Well, it's about time..." Quatre said as the man who had asked to hear some of his songs led him to a recording studio. "Alright, sing a song or two, and if I like 'em, you will be a star." Quatre smiled happily, cleared his throat, and began to sing...  
  
//I started pickin' out  
in front of them tourist places,  
went to Dougls Corners,  
did a few showcases,  
and tried to get in at a  
SHeDaisy listin' party.//  
  
Trowa, unable to find any alcohol, decided to open the window for some fresh air instead. The second he approached the window, an elephant flew by. "That wasn't right..." Trowa turned away from the window, in hopes of being able to find some alcohol the second time around, but instead saw a squirrel standing in front of him, hissing and growling. (Yeah, that's right, the squirrel hissed and growled.) By then, Trowa had lost what was left of his mind, and so he decided he would have a staring contest with the squirrel. He got down on the ground and began staring at the squirrel, who stared right back. Then a maid entered the room to clean it and saw Trowa. "Uh... I'll come back... Oh, no I won't, I'm getting the hell out of here!"  
  
//Thought I might meet somebody  
that had a little power  
hangin' 'round the south streets  
happy hour,  
even gave a cassette to a guy  
who once was a ____ for Marty (Robins, that is)//  
  
I think I'll just stop here, I've done plenty. Don't forget to review, and I suppose I might write some more. 


End file.
